The Christmas Tradition
by Vampirekissesx908
Summary: Amy hasn't seen Ricky in two years. But then she goes to a Christmas party and they meet up. From her friends she hears about the Christmas tradition, but she is reluctant at believing it until it happens to her.
1. Traditions

A/N: This is my first mature fanfic. This is a one-shot, but I may make it a two-shot if anyone wants another chapter. So, hopefully this doesn't suck too much.

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**The Christmas Tradition**

It was early Christmas morning, and my friends and I were at a Christmas party in someone's house. It was so early that it was still dark, so only about twelve thirty. We actually didn't even know whose house it was, but he was a friend of our friend's friend's friend. Everyone here was officially twenty one years old, and I knew this party was going to be very _un-Christmasy_. Actually, most everyone was at least twenty four, while most of my friends and I were just twenty one.

The party was at a huge house with high chandeliers and a fancy kitchen and a living room with wooden floors.

Everyone was hanging around talking and getting wasted. I was standing with my two friends, Lauren and Madison, in the large kitchen where half of the people were. I was drinking just so I wouldn't stand out, and I've never actually gotten drunk before so I wasn't planning on it tonight.

Low, cheesy Christmas music was playing, but no one paid attention to it.

"Amy," my friend, Madison, said, "you know what happens at the end of this party, right? The annual tradition?"

I snapped back into reality and stared at her, clueless. "No, I don't know. What?"

Madison and Lauren exchanged glances, and Madison lowers her voice. "The tradition is that every year when the party ends at two o' clock in the morning everyone gets really drunk and supposedly the guys each take a girl home with them. But I don't think it always happens, not for every girl, anyway."

"Yeah, it's only the _hot_ girls, usually," Lauren said scornfully.

I shook my head in disbelief. "You guys don't actually believe that, do you?"

"Well, kinda," Madison said. "That's what we hear, anyway."

"Who would tell you about that?" I raised an eyebrow.

"A lot of people," she said defensively. "A lot of people would tell me about that because a lot of people talk to me because I'm a very good listener!"

We all pulled away from our little circle when some unfamiliar guy walked up. Madison and Lauren blushed and batted their eyelashes, but I just stood still and glared at them. Why were they acting so weird? The tradition was stupid and not true. It was a _Christmas_ party for crying out loud.

I sighed and walked away from the guy and Madison and Lauren as they flirted with him, and I walked into the living room and sat down on the leather couch in front of the fireplace while everyone danced and what not.

I wasn't really the kind of girl who went to these parties. I wasn't expecting there to be some sexual tradition. I guess I really was expecting this to be a real Christmas party. A jolly, merry Christmas party. Maybe it was time I stopped being so naive.

Here I was-- twenty one years old and only had sex twice my whole life. Once at band camp, and once with Benjamin Boykewich, who I hadn't seen in a year.

The party was getting smaller now. As the people got more and more drunk, more and more of them left. And the tradition _was_ turning out to be true after all.

I stared at the clock above the fireplace, deciding that at any minute I would leave because this party was a stupid, awful idea. My head was spinning and I knew it was because of the alcohol. I hadn't been planning on getting wasted, but it looked like I was.

Not that I knew what it felt like to be drunk, but I wasn't totally oblivious.

Just when I was about to stand up and walk out of here, Ricky Underwood sat down on the couch beside me. I didn't even know he was here.

I quickly snuck a peek at him but didn't want to converse any with him. I kept my eyes on the ground, and I could feel Ricky staring dead at me. Of course, it could have simply been because I was drunk and wasn't very clear of what was going on.

He cleared his voice. "I see how it's going to be."

I looked at him now and grimaced. "And _what_ is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he answered briefly. "You know, you would think you'd be into this. But you don't seem to be liking it at all."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" I snapped.

"The party," he said, his eyes gleaming at me. "You'd think you would be trying to have fun, but you're just sitting here."

"Other people are sitting, too," I informed him.

He made a low, chuckling sound. "Not to be a smart ass or anything, but actually there are only five people still here. None of which are sitting. Well, except for us and Chad over there, but we aren't going to count him."

I looked behind me, and he was right. No one was sitting and hardly anyone was still here. My eyes searched around for Lauren or Madison, but I couldn't see either one of them. I rolled my eyes and scowling, I looked back at Ricky. "Okay, whatever."

"We better be getting out of here before we look like rejects," he said.

"I already know the tradition so don't act so _womanizey_. I know what's going on." _Wow. Womanizey? I really am losing my mind. _"And second, you don't tell me what to do. I'll stay here as long as I want to."

He bit his lip to hold back a laugh. "I know you can stay here as long as you want to. It wasn't a demand, it was simply a request. Jeesh. What are you in such a bad mood about?"

"My head is spinning. And I want to get up but I'm afraid I'll fall."

"Never been drunk before?'

I clenched my jaw and shrugged my shoulders, pulling my phone out of my pocket and pretending to stare at it. "What's it to you?"

"Well, nothing," he said. "But I could give you a ride if you want. I know you came here with your friends, and they left. So you have no car, and I'm assuming you don't want to stay here forever, although you claim you don't want to get up."

"That's right," I mumbled, suddenly feeling confused as if the alcohol had hit me just now. The room was starting to spin again, and it felt hot in here. "I _don't_ want to get up."

I saw him move in the corner of my eye. "Well, I could always carry you."

"No, thanks," I said, sarcastic. And then I went from feeling hot to freezing.

He sighed and slumped back against the couch. I wondered why he was sitting here with me and didn't just leave. If I wasn't so dizzy I could probably figure it out. I looked at the empty bottle sitting on the floor below me and couldn't remember if it was mine or not.

_How in the hell can someone get drunk off of one beer?_

Maybe I drank more. I couldn't remember anything now.

I sighed. I was tired of this party. I wanted to go home. "I guess you can give me a ride," I told Ricky. "I wanna go home. Now."

He shifted toward me and mumbled low in my ear. "Okay, Amy. I'll give you a ride. But I won't take you home. You have to come back to my apartment with me."

His words went through one ear and out the other. I understood them, but right now I really didn't care. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." And then he, somehow, lifted me up on my feet and then the rest of the walk outside in the pitch black darkness was a blur.

Then we were at his car, and I didn't know whether I had walked there myself or he carried me. Frankly, it didn't matter. I wanted to be home, or in _a house_. Safe and warm. And I'd even settle for his car. He kept the heater on as he drove, and I sat in the passenger seat, humming to myself to overpower the awful ringing sound in my head.

Ricky laughed and I opened my mouth to ask him what was so funny, but it hurt my head too much to talk so I shut up.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I didn't want to get drunk._

"Are you coming?" I heard Ricky say, somewhere. I opened my eyes and realized the car had stopped. "Or do you need me to carry you again?" He was talking to me from somewhere in the distance, but I couldn't tell where. And then I saw him standing outside my window. He opened the door. "Amy, are you okay?"

I tightly closed my eyes again. "No. Go away." And then I started humming again. I knew I probably looked like an idiot.

He chuckled, and then I felt arms around me and my feet were suddenly lifted in the air. I still kept my eyes shut. The bitter cold of the air bothered me, but it was nothing compared to how shitty my whole body felt.

And then it was warm again, and I heard a door shut behind me. After a few seconds I landed on something soft, and I opened my eyes and saw I was in a bedroom. _His bedroom_, I guess. I looked around but couldn't see Ricky anywhere.

But then he stumbled into the room and handed me a cup of something. "What is this?"

"Vinegar. It sometimes helps you get sober."

I drank it quickly and then set it down on the table. "Are _you_ not drunk?"

"A little bit." He stood up and walked out of the room again, and then he returned shortly after and sat back down on the bed across from me. He stroked my hair and my neck and murmured, "It's been _way_ too long, Amy... Just getting your sister to drop John off every weekend is not enough. I want to see _you_."

I didn't say anything. I figured he wasn't done talking. He ran his hand down my neck and touched the zipper of my jacket and then he pulled it off and down my shoulders. He put his hand in my pocket and pulled out something. I couldn't remember what it was. "So, you went to Juilliard," he said. "I always knew you were smart enough."

His cold hands draped across my arm and he started unbutton my shirt. "I know going to court caused us to go our separate ways and not see each other face to face for two years, but it's all a little silly, don't you think?"

I decided I needed to speak now, but I had no control over my words. I didn't even know what I was going to say until after I said it. "Well, come see me, then," I purred, a tiny smirk forming on my face and a chuckle escaping my lips.

He managed to pull my shirt off my arms. "Maybe I will," he said, the shirt revealing my black undershirt. He growled. "Don't you think this is a little much?"

"Huh?"

He threw his shirt off and started taking off my top. "It's really not necessary to wear fifty shirts." He was obviously having trouble getting it off. He messed around with the strings for a while and then groaned. "What the _hell_?"

I knew what he was having trouble with. "It crosses in the back."

He finally figured it out and then stared at my breasts popping out of my bra and he sighed. "Now that's better."

If I were sober I would probably stop him, but I really didn't care to. In fact, I might just play along. I grabbed his leg to steady myself before sitting on top of him, and he lay with his legs flat on the bed and the upper half of him leaning against the pillow. I straddled him just below his crotch and unzipped his jeans.

I slide them down and let them fall to the floor.

I really was no good at this, for I had very little experience, but if I just didn't think about what I was doing it was a lot easier. _Just don't think about it._ And, being drunk, I had no problem doing that.

I crawled my way back up his body and stopped when my hands touched his chest. My head took another spin and I knew I needed to lay flat before I passed out. Noticing this, Ricky set me down beside him and rolled on top of me.

He pulled down my jeans and then unhooked my bra, letting it fall beneath the bed. He slid my underwear down with his teeth and threw it with his to the floor, and then he was inside me.

His lips went to mine and his tongue trailed along my upper lip. I put my hand on his chest again and shoved him. He quickly moved his face away and stared curiously at me, but I ignored him and pushed him back down on the bed so I could get on top of him.

I sat over him as he lay back, and then I leaned down and kissed him. His lips moved swiftly with mine, lust burning in his eyes, and then he pulled away for a second. "You really know what you're doing," he choked out.

"No, I really don't," I said. And that was true. I was completely wasted, and following the Christmas party tradition.

I started rocking my hips back and forth, and Ricky kissed my neck. "Well," he breathed at the hollow of my neck. "You should be _under the influence_ more often."

I could feel his erection, and it was tight inside me, and I knew it would hurt in the morning. But at this moment I didn't care. I was getting too dizzy and I knew I would have to get back on the bottom again.

Ricky somehow automatically knew this, and he rolled back on top of me again. His lips were at my neck again, my mouth, and back down. He grabbed onto my hips and his tongue was at my clit. My head was spinning again but for a different reason.

I purposely held my breath on the intention that I didn't want him to hear me make any noises. Then he was in me again, and he thrust himself hard into me, gradually increasing speed. I gripped onto the back of his neck and ran my hand through his hair.

I couldn't take it anymore. I moaned right in his ear as the pressure was building up. But I knew he was ahead of me, and he was going to come first. He moved faster, and harder, and his body shook. "Oh, _fuck_," he groaned.

He slowed down then, but he didn't stop. The pressure was outrageous, and my hands were everywhere. I gripped his neck just to have something to hold on to as he went faster again. He leaned up and watched me, and I closed my eyes.

I moaned louder, digging my fingernails into his shoulder as my body went into a spasm, shaking violently with my release. If there was truly such a thing as ecstasy, this was it. "_Ugh...Jesus._" And then I finally came and he planted a kiss on my forehead. "Merry Christmas, Amy."

He lay down beside me and I sighed, exhausted. "Merry Christmas, Ricky."


	2. Admission

A/N: It's almost been officially a year since this has been updated. I said it most likely wouldn't be continued, but randomly I just decided I would! This may even turn into a full story, and the rating won't be changing so I guess that's your warning. You've definitely probably forgotten this, so I would advise re-reading the first chapter before you read the second one. Hope you like this! This chapter is basically just a filler but I'll be updating really soon after! I want around 10 reviews for this.

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**The Christmas Tradition**

In the morning it took me several moments to remember what happened last night and whose bed I was lying in - and more importantly, who I was lying _next to_ in bed. When I did remember, it was quite a shock for me and I started shaking involuntarily under my skin. This wasn't something that I normally did. Hell, this was something I never did.

_The tradition doesn't exist. You never went to that Christmas party._

It was all lies that I started telling myself, but right now I really didn't care. I sighed quietly trying not to wake the sleeping body beside me. I looked at him and his bare chest, the covers pulled up to his waist, and marveled a little, but then the guilt returned and I bent down to pick up my clothes from the floor and quickly but quietly I dressed.

The strings on my undershirt were twisted and knotted in a very confusing manner, and I cringed remembering _why _they were that way: Ricky had such a hard time figuring out the untying process of my shirts last night. I only wore an undershirt because it was nearly freezing out, not that that's relevant.

I zipped up my jacket and pulled on my jeans and ducked out of the bedroom, heading for the front door. As I made it outside, I heard Ricky calling, "Amy," and I knew I had woken him up. I pretended that it didn't faze me and walked straight down the street. My 'best friends' ditched me last night, leaving me with no car, and I wasn't about to ask Ricky to drive me home.

That would lead to awkward conversation that I simply didn't want to have. I wondered if this whole thing was set up, like Madison and Lauren figured I'd get with Ricky or something so that's the reason as to why they left; this concept pissed me off so I went with a better conclusion that they just forgot about me.

My apartment was too far a distance for me to walk, so when I came to one I got a taxi and paid the driver as he dropped me off at home. I cursed when I walked inside the house and remembered that John's with my parents now and I was supposed to pick him up after the party last night.

But my mom had interjected: "It'll probably be late when the party ends. John will be tired; he's fine here for the night." Again, I cringed. I didn't feel like myself today. I felt new and different somehow and part of me wanted to believe that it was a good feeling but then I just cringed again. I felt repulsive.

As I drove to my parents house to get John, I tried to forget last night and return to myself again, but I failed.

... ... ...

John went back to bed as soon as we got home. In the midst of rushing out of Ricky's apartment so fast I didn't even check the time; it was only six thirty, which surprised me because I didn't go to sleep until after three, which meant I only got three hours of sleep. I did feel exhausted, actually, my hair knotted and tangled and probably circles under my eyes.

I paced the room for a little while; with John asleep it was silent and depressing in my apartment. When the doorbell rang several minutes later, I jumped and my heart raced for a minute, but as I looked through the peephole in the door and saw it was only Madison and Lauren, I relaxed a little.

I swung the door open. "What?" I muttered scornfully. "I hope you're both happy for leaving me last night. You guys were _supposed _to be my ride home-"

"Well you got home, didn't you?" Madison asked coyly, Lauren inputting, "Did you?"

I moved to let them step inside and I shut the door quietly. "Yeah, but I had to get a ride from someone else. Thanks, guys."

"Who?" they both asked simultaneously. I looked at them in disbelief and just shook my head.

"Like you even deserve to know," I shot back. They were both confused, I know, but I was just pissed and didn't feel like talking to anyone now. I shouldn't have opened the door. "Ricky took me home...We haven't seen each other in a while, and I just...didn't expect to see him then." I trailed off.

That caught their attention, apparently. "What happened?" Madison asked.

I rolled my eyes. "What makes you think something happened?"

"Well, didn't it?"

"Nope." I turned around and started walking the opposite direction. "I think you should both leave now. John's asleep-"

"_Amy, _you didn't," Madison interrupted, but she didn't sound upset or ashamed. She sounded excited or happy for me and I didn't have the faintest clue why.

"She did," Lauren muttered.

I was beyond annoyed. "Bye, guys, I don't want to talk about this," I sang as I practically pushed them out the door, giving them a sarcastic wave as I shut it in their face and watched them leave. I was relieved to get rid of them; the last thing I wanted to do now was explain to someone what happened last night. I was still having a hard time admitting it to myself...

I turned around to exit the room, planning to go into the kitchen and find something for breakfast. I hadn't eaten since around lunch yesterday. There was food at the party, but the table was so crowded and most of the food was taken by the time the crowd died down.

I stepped into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, but there was absolutely nothing. I would have settled on leftover chicken casserole from several nights ago, although it didn't sound the least appetizing, but as soon as I took it out of the fridge the doorbell rang again.

I groaned to myself and set the plastic container down on the counter and went to the door, calling, "Madison, Lauren, I said I don't want to talk about it," even though I was pretty sure they couldn't hear me anyway.

I angrily gripped the doorknob and swung the door open once more, but I profoundly regretted that I did. I figured he'd be smirking so infamously the first time we were forced to see each other again, but to my surprise Ricky stood at my door, jeans and a shirt only halfway buttoned, slightly frowning. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if it was anger that I saw in his expression. Maybe I deserved it.

I wasn't expecting having to face this with him so early; actually, I wasn't expected to ever have to talk about this with him. "Hi," I said, but my voice sounded unnatural and strange. I cleared my voice and tried again, but it still sounded the same. "Uh, hello."

He pulled the sides of his lip up into what should have been a smile, but instead it looked like he did it simply for an acknowledgment, and it quickly faded. "What happened to you?"

My heart raced. "Excuse me?"

"You disappeared this morning like you'd committed a murder and was lying next to a witness so you escaped as quickly as you could before he had the chance to wake up and call the cops."

I wanted to laugh at his example, but I realized that this wasn't funny at all to him. "I - no I didn't."

He narrowed his eyes. "You kind of did." He looked inside and then returned his eyes back to me, his expression still cold. "Can I come in?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," I admitted. "Um, John's asleep."

"Ah," he mumbled. "John is asleep, in your apartment. John, our son, and I can't come in-"

"What is wrong with you?"

He pushed his way in and let the door shut behind us. "What the hell is wrong with _you_? Are you having a hard time remembering what happened last night or are you just trying to forget? I mean, yeah I'm kind of surprised, but I don't understand why you want to avoid-"

I hadn't planned on giving him a firm response, but something he said made me curious: "Kind of surprised about what?"

He smirked then, possibly returning to himself. "You were pretty great," he said in a low voice.

My heart went crazy then and I looked away. My face was probably pale white. My throat felt tight and it was as if I couldn't form words.

"Amy," Ricky said, like he was growing annoyed with me for whatever reason. "Look at me."

I did.

"What's wrong?"

I looked away again and he grabbed my arm, but I pulled it away and met his eyes again. "Tell me."

"Nothing - " I began, and he opened his mouth to protest and I swallowed down the lump in my throat and quickly continued, "I just - I - don't really know what happened last night." That wasn't what I intended on saying, but for some reason it was what came out anyway. Sometimes I tended to stutter when I was nervous and say ridiculous things. I had thought that I had gotten over that since I graduated high school, but apparently I either hadn't or the condition returned.

"We had sex," he told me blatantly, still slightly annoyed like he was trying to get me to believe something. Like he was trying to convince me it's okay. "And you were amazing, and you - you were so freaking carefree and - and I just thought that maybe somehow you'd still be like that in the morning. And I don't know, maybe I kind of hoped, too."

My mind spun and the world blurred as if I was having a hard time comprehending what was going on. I wanted to ask him if he was drunk again because he didn't seem like himself; something was different. Not that I knew him now; we'd been apart for two years before last night.

Surprisingly, I wanted to talk to him about this, wanted to be comfortable around him. And I felt pathetic when tears started welling up in my eyes and all I managed to do was whisper, "I don't want to talk about this."

He stared at me, comprehending that for a moment. He looked hurt, or - or I don't even know what. "Why?"

"Because - it was a mistake." Again, I didn't mean to say that.

"Why?" he repeated. "We're adults. Adults do these kind of things all the time. And we have a kid together. We should be comfortable around each other -"

"If this is your idea of trying to get me to sleep with you again, then stop," I said fiercely, suddenly gaining an ounce of confidence. "I understand last night was consensual and we probably both liked it but we'd been drinking, which I never even do by the way, and it was a mistake."

"What was? Drinking or the sex?"

"Both."

He shook his head as if he was disagreeing with me; and, grabbing my forearm, he looked up at me through his eyelashes as if he were lecturing a child. "Well, I don't think either was a mistake. So let's just talk about this. Let me stay over or somethin'. Come back to my a-"

"No."

"No?"

"No," I repeated. "I told you John is asleep. I'm not going anywhere, and the only place you're going is back home, alone."

"I drove all the way out here," he continued obstinately. "Not that it's that far but just please humor me, okay? Just a few minutes, let me talk to you, and then I'll leave you alone."

Yeah, I _just humored_ him last night until I forgot what I was doing, forgot what I was restraining from. Maybe I was only afraid of myself. I sighed, because my head was a mix of jumbled up thoughts right now and I just wanted it all to stop. "Just a few minutes," I echoed.

"That's all I need."

"Fine. Go wait in my room for me, and be quiet. I don't want John to know you're here." If John saw him here he'd ask a lot of questions, questions that I probably couldn't answer right now. Before Ricky could say anything, I walked off into the kitchen and grabbed the chicken that I had left out. Suddenly it didn't look even the least bit appealing anymore, so I stuffed it back into the fridge and walked into the bathroom.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I looked like hell: my hair was wavy and sticking up every which way and I knew it was really oily. I groaned and turned on the sink, wetting my hand and running it through my hair to smooth it out. Then I noticed I was still wearing the same clothes from last night, not even having a chance to change, and I felt embarrassed but Ricky was already in my room now and I couldn't change.

Maybe he didn't care, anyway.

I made my way out of the bathroom and down the hallway, closing John's bedroom door as I reached it after making sure he was still asleep. He usually woke up rather early, and I felt bad because maybe he stayed up later to wait and see if maybe I'd be coming home early from the party. He'd be up soon, I was sure.

I reached my room, where the door was halfway closed, and I pushed it open quietly and walked inside, closing the door behind me. Ricky stood beside the bed with his hands stuffed in his pockets and facing me, waiting expectantly. I gave him a small nod and walked to the dresser, pulling out clean blue jeans and a purple blouse. "Turn around."

He sighed, obliging. "This is ridiculous."

"I don't care."

I threw my clothes off and dressed quickly, anxiously watching him and expecting him to turn around and sneak a peek at me. But he didn't. I tossed my dirty clothes into the laundry basket in my closet and then stepped back into the room, watching Ricky still turned around. "Okay."

He turned back around to face me, and nodded with a slight smile. "Just one shirt today, I see."

"Excuse me?"

"You wore like ten shirts last night."

I ran a hand through my bangs, another nervous habit. "It was cold." He just nodded with the same smirk on his face, and it made me very self-conscious and I wish that wasn't the case. I leaned against the bed and sat down on the far right side, crossing my legs Indian style. "So let's talk," I said nervously.

He crawled into the bed and sat against the headboard, facing me. Flashbacks raced through my head then and I repeatedly tried to shut them off but it didn't appear to be happening. "Alright, let's talk," he began, clearing his throat. "First, I'd like for _you _to bring John over every weekend instead of having your sister do it. I don't bite, alright?"

I clenched my jaw; judging from last night, I knew he did.

"And second," he continued, his voice hitting one notch lower, "I want you to tell me in explicit detail what we did last night."

My head took another spin and I almost stumbled off the bed. "Wh - what?"

"Just tell me what we did last night," he repeated. "It's simple." Of course he hadn't forgotten. It was a game, a test. He wanted to hear me say it, as if it would sink in and feel more real for me. As if acknowledging it to each other would help us in any way.

I just wanted to forget.

"We - we hooked up," I forced out.

He smirked, thoroughly amused. "What did we hook up?"

I looked him right in the eye, and I was terrified. But I challenged him: "We had sex because you took me home in your bed when I was drunk. That's what happened."

"And?"

"_And_?" I shot back incredulously.

"Yes."

"_And _it was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened. We both weren't thinking straight and-" He frowned, losing his patience with me. But I wasn't done yet. I continued, "And we probably both enjoyed it a lot more than we should have. Okay?"

"And?"

My heart continued to race. _What else did he want from me?_ I opened my mouth to speak frantically, but my words were cut off sharply when his hand went to my mouth. "And it's okay, Amy," he said. "We're gonna be okay."


End file.
